


Yeah, but I changed after I met you

by CrimsonBitch



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alvin Marsh is His Own Warning, Bad Parents Maggie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Multi, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22871662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonBitch/pseuds/CrimsonBitch
Summary: PREVIOUSLY "REARRANGE US"Beverly had spent her whole life running from her past. Even in Derry, however, ghosts from a rundown desert town in Arizona manage to haunt her. Until, that is, she meets a girl in an oversized bomber jacket who is haunted by the same demons, and understands her in ways she didn't know was possible. The skeletons are banging on the closet door, and Bev's arms are straining under the force.Bev's dragging Richie to an abuse survivors support group, because he needs it, dammit. She probably needs it too, but she'd never let anyone tell her that.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Original Female Character(s), Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	1. The First Meeting

Bev checked her watch for the third time since she lit her cigarette. 

_7:10... Where the fuck is he?_ Bev thought to herself. She took a drag from the cigarette and looked at the flyer fluttering next to her head. 

_Are you a minor suffering from abuse, or a survivor of such a situation? If you would like to connect with others like yourself? join us at St. John’s Holy Church on Wednesdays at 7pm._

She rolled her eyes. She still wasn’t on board with all this abuse survivor bullshit, but she was here because she wanted Richie to come, and she knew for a fact that if she wasn’t there to hold his hand through it all, he would never get help. 

Bev never considered herself to be a ‘survivor’, and she hated that term. People survived cancer, murder, and car crashes. Her father touching her when she was a little kid wasn’t something she had to ‘survive’. It wasn’t life threatening, certainly.

Besides, she got removed from her dad when she was in sixth grade. Her dad was (hopefully) rotting away in a jail cell back in Arizona. She was here in Derry now, with her mother’s sister Erin, who had graciously taken her in after everything went down. 

_Trailer walls are thin, and her father made the mistake of going into her bedroom when the neighbors were out walking their dog. They called 911, and when the cops showed up, they found a little girl sobbing amongst bloodied sheets, and the tail lights of his car shining through the window as he raced away._

_They got in their cars to chase him, but they didn’t have to. With the combination of adrenaline and alcohol flowing through his veins, he didn’t make it farther than the entrance of the trailer park before his 1976 Ford pickup was wrapped around a telephone pole._

_He was sentenced to a standard amount of time for someone who did what he did. They told Bev’s case worker that they could get him more time if she testified, but she couldn’t bring herself to. They used pictures the police had taken instead. For her, knowing that he had no idea where she was was enough of a reassurance._

She didn’t like to think about what happened, so she simply didn’t. I mean, she was sixteen now. She was almost an adult. Adults learn how to process their shit, right? 

A few years ago, her aunt left pamphlets about therapists in town on the kitchen counter, but she seemed to get the message when Bev left them ever-so-delicately on the top of the trash. Erin only talked about the whole situation one time. On the otherwise-silent drive from Arizona to Maine, Erin had pointedly avoided Bev’s eyes and said to her “I never liked him. I told Elfrida the night of the wedding that she would regret it” 

Erin and Bev get along just fine. Erin spends a lot of time at work, but that’s fine because Bev can watch TV, or sit in her room and smoke, or hang out with her friends Bill, Ben, Mike, Stan, and Rich. Bev really loves her friends. 

This love is what brings her here today. She and the other boys had known what was happening at Richie’s house for a long time. Before Bev came to town, none of them had any knowledge of makeup, and his bruises were harder to hide. He didn’t open up to her immediately, but after a while, he realized he could trust her and she suddenly knew all about why the other boys gave him _looks_ when he spun Bev tales about falling off bikes and running into doors. 

She finds it funny that he ever thought she believed those stories. She knew abuse when she saw it, she just wanted him to trust her enough to be honest. 

Now, she had finally convinced him to come to this, because she knew that while the losers were great, he oughta be around people who knew what he had been going through since he was little. 

Bev didn’t know. She wasn’t abused. She wasn’t a _survivor_ . Richie was abused. _He_ was a survivor. Not Bev.

She was torn from her thoughts as she heard footsteps approaching. 

“Miss Marsh” Richie called out, adding a mocking touch of the southern twang Bev couldn’t ever seem to get rid of. “What brings you ‘round to these fine parts?”

“Just waiting for your ass Tozier” She replied fondly, “Only 15 minutes late. That might be a record.” 

“Yeah, a record for how early I can be to this little fuckin’ pow wow you’re dragging me to.” 

“Of course for earliness, and don’t knock it ‘till ya try it.” 

Richie rolled his eyes and nodded, stealing the cigarette out of her fingers and taking the last drag before putting it out on the wall behind her. 

“Ya know Rich somehow I feel like putting a smoke out on a church is some kinda sacrilege.”

Richie huffed and opened the door for her, giving her a cordial bow as the two entered the stuffy room and let the door slam behind them.

* * *

When they entered the large room in the basement of the church, it was no surprise that all the eyes in the room looked at the pair. They did rush in 15 minutes late after all. 

The room seemed to be used mainly for storage, if the nativity scene that was shoved off to the side was anything to go by. It was a spacey room nonetheless, with a circle of chairs in the middle and a collapsable table with shitty snacks against the far wall. 

The white fluorescent lights added to the bags under everyone’s eyes, and Bev chuckled at the thought that everyone there looked like a zombie. 

“Hi, I’m Mr. K” said the man sitting nearest to the door said, with palpable annoyance, “Why don’t you two take a seat and we’ll all reintroduce ourselves.” 

The pair grimaced sheepishly before rushing over and sitting in two seats next to each other. 

“I’ll start,” said a muscular blond boy with bad acne, who seemed to hunch, “My name’s Ollie.”

“Kurt” nodded the small, dark skinned boy in the seat next to him. His eyes seemed to bulge out of his head ever so slightly, and they darted around ceaselessly. 

“Eddie” Squeaked the tiny boy with the fanny pack. 

The blonde girl next to him let her eyes shift around to everyone in the group before speaking up “I’m Anna.” 

“Call me Tony” said the tall brunette boy next to Anna said confidently. Between the clothes and the haircut, he breathed asshole. Definitely not the type to seek support groups, which made Bev wonder why he was here. 

The next girl was picking her nails, dark brown hair covering her face, before realizing it was her turn. Her eyes flicked briefly to Bev’s. “Camila” she said smoothly. 

“I’m Richie. Rich. Tozier. Dumbass” Richie forced a dry laugh “I’ll respond to pretty much anything.” 

Bev knew he might be fooling the others into thinking he was comfortable, but she could see the way his fingers trembled as he shoved them in his jacket pockets. 

Bev was thinking about this when she noticed all the eyes on her. 

“Oh, I’m Beverly, but I’m not here for like-...” She felt her chest constrict, unsure as to why, “Well I’m just here for Richie I guess. I’m not, like, a _victim of abuse ._ ” 

A wave of guilt crashed into her as she saw half the room cringe. 

“Well..” Started the man at the front of the room “I’m not sure if everyone here will be comfortable with having you here if you aren’t going to contribute.” 

Bev saw a glint of anxiety in Richie’s eyes at the thought of her having to leave. 

“I don’t mind if she stays” announced Camila, after a good 10 seconds of silence. The room slowly murmured in agreement. 

“Hell” huffed Kurt, “It’s not like we know you all are telling the truth anyway. One of you could be here for some fucked up, _Fight Club-esque_ reasons, so why exclude someone who we at least know isn’t lying.” 

“Language Kurt” Mr. K reminded, “But I suppose if none of you have a problem with it, Beverly can stay.” 

Richie smiled, and covertly fist bumped Bev. She decided it felt wrong in this setting, but went along with anyway. She was here to support him after all. 

“Who wants to share their story first?” Says Mr. K

Tony went first. He told the group about how his dad used to wail on him when he was a kid. “Anything I did between 5 and 7 beers would piss him off enough to not care when I showed up to school with a black eye the next day”. _Straightforward enough_ thought Bev. 

Kurt spoke next. “My family…” He starts, “I love them and all, but they don’t really approve of my whole, ya know, not being heterosexual thing. When they found out, they started saying some really awful shit. I felt terrible all the time. It all boiled over one random night. My dad was getting all up in my face. Calling me ‘fag’ and all that shit. I finally stood up for myself and yelled back. He pummeled the shit out of me. I ended up having to spend a week in the hospital for internal bleeding. Haven’t returned home since.” 

The room was silenced. Even Tony, whose cocky smirk hadn’t previously left his mouth, was pale and silent. 

After letting them process it, Mr. K spoke up, “Ollie?” 

“Uh.. well… I play football, and my old man was real proud of me and real happy with what I do on the field. Back when I was a freshman he heard some rumors about me kissing a boy behind the bleachers during one of the games, and decided that was enough to start hittin’ me for. I’m still playin’ football because it’s the only thing that keeps him off my back, but it’s happened a couple times since then, and the threat of it lingers behind every back pat and high five after a game.” 

Anna was the next to share. She twiddled her thumbs and seemed to almost start at least twice before taking a deep breath. “Well, in my house we grew up pretty religious. Church every Sunday, prayers multiple times a day, you know” She gulped and glanced at Mr. K, who nodded encouragingly. 

“Well my uncle told me that it was God’s will that he-” she cut herself off and swallowed a gag. “He essentially told me that God wanted him to be touching me, and that God wanted it to be a secret. I asked my sisters about it, and they told me he was right”. Anna’s eyes watered, and everyone in the group had trouble making eye contact with her. “It wasn’t their fault, he told them the same thing, and we didn’t really talk to anyone outside of the family for the most part. It wasn’t until I told my Mom what he was doing that she sat me down and explained what it was and why it was wrong. She had to tell my sisters too.” 

At this point the room was totally silent, and Anna was full on crying. “They couldn’t handle the knowledge. They-” 

She cut herself off with a sob, and Tony’s hand twitched in his lap, seemingly wanting to reach out and comfort, but as though he knew she likely wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Thank you Anna” Mr.K said quietly. Anna asked if she could go to the bathroom and he nodded sympathetically. “Eddie, would you like to share?”

“Well, I mean, my story isn’t really that bad. My mom’s just kind of a bitch. She lied to me for years, making up illnesses and diseases that I didn’t have. She wouldn’t let me go anywhere or see any of my friends or anything. It made me really scared about health related things, and like, totally reliant on her. When I found out it was a lie, it totally destroyed me. I had pushed away everyone else in my life, and now it was just me and her but I can’t trust her anymore. I can’t really trust anyone anymore because, like, if someone that close can betray me how can I trust strangers, ya know?”

Bev nodded. She understood the feeling of not being able to trust people. Sure she loved her boys, but could she fully trust them? No way. They’d either be disgusted by her or pity her, and she doesn’t know which outcome sounds worse. 

“Well I guess I’m a little more straightforward” Richie spoke up “My parents just kinda suck. Dad’s knocked me around since I was a little kid, mom’s usually either too drunk or too scared to say anything. He’s never hit her that I know of, but her dad used to knock her around too, so she just tries to stay out of his way.” 

Mr. K nodded and smiled reassuringly at him. “Well that leaves one left. Camila?” 

“Oh” She looked up and put both feet on the floor. “Well I guess mine isn’t super duper dramatic.” Bev noticed she had a hispanic accent. “My dad was an asshole, touched me when I was a kid. Cops found out and moved me here to live with my brother Mateo. All’s good since.” 

Bev felt all the blood leave her face, and her fingertips when numb. _She went through the same thing. She… she’s an abuse survivor. She is. Not me though. It’s different. It’s definitely different._

Bev tuned back in to hear Mr. K announce that they were gonna take a 10 minute break to let everyone decompress, then talk about coping or something. Bev wasn’t listening. She could barely hear above the ringing in her ears. 

“You okay there Marsh?” Richie said with a shitty pirate accent “Lookin’ a little green around the gills.” 

“I’m good Rich. Just need water.”

Bev got up on gelatinous legs and walked with Richie to the table, and took a bottle of water. Nobody in the room seemed to want to talk to each other, each being uncomfortable with a room of strangers knowing their secrets.

Richie, unsurprisingly, was soon engaged in casual conversation with Kurt, who happened to know the shitty band that Richie was wearing the shirt of. 

_This is a good time. Go ask_ Bev thought to herself. Camila was pouring herself a cup of coffee, as Bev approached her from the back. 

“Hey” Bev said quietly, but Camila jumped a little nonetheless. 

“What’s up Red.”

“I was wondering if I could ask you, like, a personal question. Feel free to say no, it’s a little invasive.”

Camila raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, but nodded slowly anyway. 

“I was wondering how old you were when your Dad, you know….”

Camila took a deep breath. 

“I was a little over seven when he started. Went until I was eleven.” 

_That’s about the same age as m-... No way. It’s not the same._

“Then you came here?”

“I bounced around in foster care a while before my brother turned twenty-one. I came here when I was fifteen.” 

Bev nodded, “Thanks. Sorry if that was like, a weird question” she stammered.

Camila was quiet for a moment but smirked knowingly, “Don’t worry about it _chica.”_

Camila patted Bev's forearm reassuringly, and Bev noticed how thin her wrist was under the oversized bomber jacket she had on. It was on the back of her mind, though, because she was too preoccupied thinking about how her heart thumped when Camila called her chica. 

The rest of the meeting flew by for Bev. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Camila had said. _If she’s an abuse victim, doesn’t that make me a- No, don’t go there Marsh. You know it's different._

By the time Bev finally cleared her thoughts, the meeting was over, and Richie was getting out of his chair and stretching. She saw Eddie’s eyes drift to the sliver of skin showing under the tall boy’s shirt, before blushing and redirecting away. _Hmm, interesting._

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be” Richie muttered as the two left the church, “ I was expecting more tears and bullshit and less cute boys. Did you see that Eddie kid? Fuckin’ adorable.”

Bev absently heard herself chuckle. The two started down the road towards their respective houses, each trying to push the other into puddles and off the sidewalk. The familiarity of the action did Bev well, and for a moment the voice in her head that hissed _victim, victim, victim_ was quieted. 

Bev was a lot of things, but a victim would never be one of them. 

* * *

That night before bed, Bev stared into her own eyes as she took off her key necklace and the rings that turned the joint of her finger a little green. 

Her hands still felt a little numb. Erin had commented how quiet she was when she got back from Bill’s house. Bev was so out of it she almost forgot to play into the lie. 

In the mirror, she studies her features carefully. Nothing looked like it had changed in the last few hours, and yet there was no way this was the same girl she was looking at when she hurriedly put mascara on that morning. Something was off; as if this was a dream, but she knew it wasn’t. 

She looked into her own eyes until the features of her face swam in her vision, and her once-whole face distorted into that of a million others. For a moment, she saw in her own face the face of the man that she hadn’t seen for all those years. 

She was always told she had her mother’s face but certainly her father’s eyes. She wouldn’t forget those eyes any time soon. 

She brushed her teeth and washed her face and the minute she sat down in bed she seemed to forget she had done any of it. Although it took her longer than normal, she fell off to sleep without much trouble. 

It wasn’t until the clocked blinked 3:24 am when Bev awoke next. 

She sat straight up in bed in a burst of energy and held her breath. The logical part of her brain told her that she was lying in her bed in Erin’s apartment. 

Despite this, she could smell the smell of her father’s cigarette mixed with the dusty smell of the night air in Arizona. All she could hear was the repeated sound of the curtain leading into her childhood bedroom being clumsily pushed to the side. In the darkness she saw the flash of her father’s eyes. 

Bev covered her ears and brought her knees up to her chest. She tried to catch her breath as the tendrils of the nightmare still clamped themselves around her brain. Right as she started to get ahold of herself, she heard her bedroom door creak open. She knew it was the wind, but it was enough for the panic to overtake her brain completely. 

She only half knew what was happening as she jumped out of bed and threw her bedroom door shut, time warping and dragging her by the ankles into the Arizona desert and through the rickety door of her father’s trailer. 

When running back to her bed in the dark, she snagged her foot on her desk chair, falling to the floor and promptly vomiting all over the floor. She laid on the floor and finally caught her damn breath, eventually moving to panting on her hands and knees. 

Her heart stopped when she heard the door open, but when she whipped around it was Erin in a bathrobe with tired eyes. 

“Jesus Beverly, what the hell happened in here?”

Bev considered saying it was something that she ate, but she knew Erin wouldn't believe it. “Bad dream” she muttered. 

“Alright… alright. You sit down hun I’m gonna grab some towels.”

“I- I can help Erin” Bev began to stand up, noticing how weak her legs felt, the adrenaline crash hitting her body. Thankfully, Erin leveled her with a look, and she sat back down as Erin left the room. 

When she returned, she handed Beverly a cup of ice water, which Bev took in between two trembling hands. 

“Why don’t you shower. I’ll take care of this.” 

Bev began to protest, not wanting her aunt to have to clean up her vomit, but once again it only took one look from Erin to shut her up. 

Bev sat in the shower and let the lukewarm spray fall down her face and body. She’s scared that if she stood up, she’d fall over. 

When she got out, she noticed that Erin had left a clean towel and some clothes outside the door. The clothes were a pair of Bev’s underwear, and a large band t shirt that Bev assumed was Erin’s, considering she’d never seen it before. It was large enough to go down to her lower thigh. 

When she left the bathroom clean, she noticed Erin sitting at the kitchen table. Bev sighed and sat down in the chair next to her. The dinky light that hung above the table cast a grimy yellow light over their faces. Erin pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit herself one, offering one to Bev. 

“I didn’t know you smoked” Bev muttered as she took one and lit it. 

“I don’t normally, but you know, desperate times.”

"I’m sorry Erin. You can go back to bed if you want. I won’t be anymore trouble and I know you’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”

“You aren’t trouble honey, and I want to talk before I go back to sleep.”

Bev's breath caught in her throat as she went to speak, “Talk about what”

“You aren’t stupid Bev. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah” Bev whispered “The nightmares...”

“If they’re coming back, we can do something about it-”

“They aren’t coming back” Bev cut in, “It was just one bad night.” 

“Bev, at the risk of making you feel worse, you just hurled all over the floor. If they aren’t getting more common their atleast getting worse”. Bev admired that even if it made her come off as a little callous, Erin was always straightforwards. 

“This is the first one I’ve had in months Erin. I’m fine, really.”

“Bev…” Erin thought about how to phrase what she would say next. “I know we aren’t terribly close. We weren’t when you first got here and we aren’t now. I may not know who you’re crushing on or your favorite color, but I _do_ love you”. Bev looked her in the eyes, searching for any sign of this being some sort of joke, but all she saw was an exhausted earnesty as Erin continued. “I love you a whole lot Bev. I know-... I know what it’s like to have something you don’t want to talk about, and I’m not asking to be the one you talk to, but what happened to you-”

Bev scraped some dirt out of the table with her nail as she felt cold tears rolling down her cheek

“-Isn’t something that’s gonna go away. It may feel impossible to face, but the longer you avoid and deny and push it away, the bigger an obstacle it becomes.” 

Both women breathed for a moment. Bev almost spoke, but Erin spoke up before she could. 

“Everyone has skeletons in their closets Bev. You can lock them in and ignore them, but they don’t get any quieter. They bang on the door louder and louder until it’s all you can think about, and at that point it’s worse than if you had let them see the light in the first place.” 

“I-... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything Bev.” Erin reached across the table and grabbed Bev’s hand. “All I’m saying is you’ll feel a lot better if you do.”

Any other time, Bev would’ve put up a fight about just how fine she was. How dare this woman talk to her as if she was a _survivor._ As if she was a _victim._

Tonight, however, was an exception. The yellow light and the lingering smoke was sapping her energy. She felt like a teddy bear with all the stuffing taken out. Empty. Tired. 

When Erin stood, she ruffled Bev’s hair and kissed the top of her head. Bev listened as her footsteps retreated into her bedroom and the door shut. When Erin got back in bed, Bev sat stockstill at the kitchen table, listening for any sound she could possibly hear. 

Any noise was better than what she heard in the silence, which was the sound of a polyester curtain being pulled back again and again and again. 


	2. Beautiful Stranger, Here You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms and I know  
> That beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong"  
> Finally // Beautiful Stranger - Halsey

The next Wednesday, Bev was sitting in first period, which she had with Richie (although they weren’t allowed to sit together). 

The dreams hadn’t stopped since last Wednesday. They weren’t as dramatic, but she was still jolting awake at 3 am, and it was starting to take a toll on her. Stan had bluntly asked her about the dark circles under her eyes, and she smoothly blamed the homework they all knew she didn’t really have. 

When the class finally finished, they met near the door and left the classroom together. 

“So Marsh, we goin’ back to your little party tonight?” 

“I- I thought you didn’t want to go back” Bev said weakly.

“And miss out on the cute boy with the fanny pack? Are you fuckin’ jokin?” 

“I suppose if you want to we can.” Bev sighed “I know you’re gonna joke about it no matter what, but I want this group to be good for you.”

“I guess it could be.” Richie muttered, his jokes defeated by Bev’s serious demeanor. 

“Then I suppose I’ll meet you there?”

“Same place same time, Raggedy Anne!” He said as he left her side and started down a separate hallway. 

“You could make an effort to be on time!” She called out to his back 

“And compromise my image!?” He hollered through the sea of students, putting on the shittiest gangster accent Bev had ever heard. “Your attachment to meaningless structures such as time must be sacrificed for my attachment to meaningless structures such as reputation, doll. ”

Bev flipped him the bird, but grinned nonetheless. 

* * *

Bev was impressed that night, considering Richie was only eight minutes late rather than the previous fifteen. 

“This is good progress Tozier. Maybe next week you’ll be acceptably late.”

“I’d rather die than let that happen Bev honey. You know this.”

“You’re impossible. Let’s go”

When they entered the room, everyone was seated and spun to look at them. Eddie rolled his eyes and Camila gave a sly side-smile, but other than that there was no reactions. 

“Find some seats and we’ll get started.” Mr. K instructed “Today, we’re going to be talking about ways to live with abusers. I know some of you are out of the abusive situation, but unfortunately that’s not the case for everyone, so we’ll be discussing ways in which you can handle staying with your abuser until you’re either ready to speak out against them or able to escape.”

The room was silent, so he continued. “Would anyone like to share their experience living with your abuser?”

Eddie started. “Well in my house, it’s just me and my mom, so it’s kinda hard to escape her attention. I fantasize about rebelling, but at the end of the day I know I have nowhere to go. I can’t stand up to her, because she’ll return worse when I come back home at the end of the day.” 

“Is there anyone else who knows about her abuse, Eddie?”

“No. We haven’t got any family around here, and they wouldn’t care anyways. I’ve never even met them, because my mom won’t let me. They all know she’s crazy, so they probably pity me, but nobody wants to deal with ‘crazy Sonia’s crazy son.’” Eddie sighed. 

“You’re not just her son Eddie." Mr.K added condescendingly. "Remember that guys. You aren’t defined by your abuser. You aren’t just their child, or their partner, or their sibling. You’re your own person.” 

“I know, I know” Eddie corrected, annoyed, “But it’s like, she’s the only person I’ve been around my whole life. She doesn’t really let me hang out with other people. I’m always ‘her little boy’ or ‘her little Eddie’.”

“That doesn’t define you Ed-”

“I know!” Eddie shouted, before shrivelling back into his seat “I’m sorry. I- I know, just, it’s hard.”

“I’m sure it is” Mr.K nodded succinctly “Would anyone else like to share an experience?”

“I’ll go” Kurt spoke up, “I don’t live with my Dad anymore, so I’m not really getting smacked around, but when I was with him, my biggest revelation was how goddam degrading it is.” 

The room murmured in agreement and he continued. “Like I would never call myself particularly assertive, but I’m not a damn doormat. When I was in middle school there was a group of boys who liked to pick on me because I was small at the time. Nobody really wanted to do anything, so I knew the logical thing was to go to a teacher, but even at 11 I was as prideful as I am now. Instead of speaking up, I filled their lockers with mud and worms that I skipped my math class to collect from the yard. They never fucked with me again.”

“The fuck does this have to do with your Dad” Tony stated bluntly. Kurt glared at him.

“I was getting to that. I was going to say how different it is to live and be totally dependent on the people who are doing this to you. You want to tell somebody but who are you gonna tell? Your parents? Good luck. The cops? The chief is a drinkin’ buddy of my dads, so fat chance.” Kurt took a breath and continued, his voice a little weaker. 

“At the risk of sounding dramatic, it felt like being buried alive. You know it’s wrong, but there’s no way out. You can scream all you like, and you can pound on the coffin, but nobody's gonna hear you, and if they do they sure as hell aren’t gonna help”

“Would you like to tell us how that’a different then your living situation now?”

“Well… I won’t get into too much detail, but it’s like you can never understand how bad it was until you’re on the other side. Like the whole time I would say shit to myself like ‘it’s not that bad’ and like… like “stop being a pussy Kurt’, then you get out and it’s just like… wow i didn’t realize I was slowly dying”

Kurt hurriedly wiped the tears off his face and coughed awkwardly as he realized he was sitting in a room full of people. 

“You should write you know” Ollie speaks quietly “You’ve got a hell of a way with words.” 

“Thanks, I guess.” 

“Would anyone else like to share?” Mr. K stated, and they all went around sharing stories until it was time for break. 

Bev looked over the array of shitty snack foods available on the table. 

“I like your jeans.” Bev jumped as she heard a voice in her ear

She jumped, spilling the coffee in her hand, and whipped around to see Camila standing directly behind her, grinning and giggling.

“Jesus Christ, you tryna give me a heart attack or something?” Bev hissed

“Just trying to add a little fun into this uber-depressing meeting, Red.” Camilla said lowly 

“My sincerest apologies” Kurt hollered across the room while smiling “Are my tales of abuse a little melancholy for you, Ramirez?” 

“That’s one word for it Kurt, _Dios Mío.”_ She grinned

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be, like joking about this shit? I feel like Mr.K would have some words about that.” Bev asked 

Camila winked. “If he wants to say something, let him. His words may be more appropriate, but I’ll bet mine are more creative.” 

Bev laughed along, and Camila took a blueberry muffin gingerly off the serving tray. 

“Hey, where do you go to school?” Bev asked “I definitely haven’t seen you at Derry High. I would’ve noticed.” 

Camila smirked her little knowing smirk, and Bev felt her cheeks warm up a little. 

“I don’t go to school _chica_ , not really my scene.” 

“Really I mean how old are you? Is that even allo-”

“Let it go Red.” Camila spat out, before smiling sweetly again. “Sorry. Just don’t worry about it. I work at Rex’s diner on Red Oak street. I’m doing fine.”

“Yeah okay, sorry, I was just curious.”

“That’s what killed the cat you know.”

“Are you guys talking about killing cats?” Richie said as he lumbered towards the two of them, Eddie in tow. “I haven’t even done that since, like, eighth grade.”

Bev and Camila laughed a little, and Eddie was (painstakingly) trying to smother a smile under a horrified expression

“I knew you were a sociopath! No functioning person has hair that greasy and unbrushed...” 

“Aww Eddie! You know you like the smell of my man musk!” 

“Is man musk a new code word for B.O? Somebody forgot to tell me.” Eddie grouched

“Are they like, dating?” Camila asked as she leaned into Bev. She smelled like something dark and spicy (and cheap shampoo). 

“Nah. Probably will, all things considered, but nothing yet.” 

“I can see it. They’re sweet.” 

“Richie’s just about anything except sweet.” 

“Disagree. He’s got that kinda loner, grunge charm.”

“Is that a thing? Last time I checked that was just a lack of showering.” 

“I have a soft spot for the gross and gritty. So sue me.” Camila smirked.

Bev grimaced, and Mr. K called the group back into the center. They spent the rest of the time discussing ways to cope with living with an abuser. It was pretty dark, but the mood was lightened for Bev because every time she looked at Camila, she made eye contact and smiled a little. 

To this day, Bev has never seen anything as endearing as the way that Camila sat in the seat, knees hugged to her chest, and massive bomber jacket enveloping her like a little kid. She bit her fingernails, and smiled slyly at Bev, and Bev was ninety percent sure she was already a goner. 

* * *

Later that week, Bev and Erin were trying to figure out where to go out to dinner. 

“Erin, are you sure you don’t just want to go to chinese? Because historically, whenever we go somewhere else you always end up wishing we just went to get Chinese.”

“Bev honey, life is all about trying new things!”

“Yeah, I get that, but you’re the one who always complains.”

Erin glares at her. “Bev I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bev rolled her eyes

“Hey, my coworker told me about some shitty diner on Red Oak street. She says the place is a dump, but the food’s good.” That sounded familiar, but Bev couldn’t place where she had heard it.

“Sounds good Erin.”

They got there, and upon first glance, it was definitely a dump. The paneling on the sides of the building was water damaged and peeling, and half the windows had cracks in them. The sign had a few lights out, so it read “R x’s D ner.” 

Bev and Erin sat when the got in, and were both looking over the menu

“Hi, I’m Camila, and I’ll be your server to-” recited a bored voice.

Bev looked up and Camile looked away from her server’s pad 

“Oh. Hey _chica._ Wasn’t expecting a visit. How are you guys doin?”

Bev flushed as she realized that it totally looked like she had brought Erin here to visit Camila. 

“My- my aunt wanted to go here. Erin, Camila; Camila, Erin.” 

Erin nodded to her, and watched the whole exchange with a playful smile 

“Nice to meetcha Erin. Do you ladies know what I can get for ya?”

“Uhhh” murmured Bev “I’ll have a coke and a burger.”

“And an iced tea and the fried chicken sandwich for me please.”

“Sounds good.” Camila said, scribbling it down and walking towards the back.

Erin turned on Bev. “So you know that young lady?”

“Yeah. She’s a friend. From school.”

“Friend from school huh? If you say so.”

Bev gave her a look, and they spent the rest of the time talking about school and work.

In nearly no time at all, Camila was carrying their dishes to them. “Alright, ladies, here we go, one burger and one chicken sandwich.”

“Thanks Camila.” Bev smiled, and Camila gave her a tired grin, before going to take the order of another table.

Bev and Erin ate in relative silence, both enjoying the hot greasy cheapness of the food. Round twenty minutes later, Camila left a slip of paper and a pen on their table. “Here’s your receipt, just bring it up to the register when you’re done eating and they’ll ring you up.”

Bev watched as she navigated through tables towards the back, and Camila turned, caught her eye, smiled, and disappeared through swinging red doors. 

When Bev turned back to Erin, she was looking at the slip. This was when Bev noticed that the back of the order slip was covered in one drawing, done in blue pen ink. 

It was a doodle of Bev and Erin sitting at the table. Bev had her head thrown back in laughter, and Erin was smiling too. It was from when Erin had been telling Bev a funny story from her work, but Bev was impressed by the picture. Everything from the surrounding booth to Bev’s freckles and the dark circles under Erins’ eyes had been hurriedly scribbled onto the back of the slip. Bev flushed as she read the bottom of the doodle.

_Thanks for the visit chica_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I wish someone else was writing this better so that I could just read it. I'm not trying to suck my own dick or anything like I just like the idea and if there was a way for the pic to just exist I would love that. I guess writing it is fun and shit im just a better reader than writer. Anyways, if there's anything you'd like to see or have any ideas for the characters, drop a comment and I'll think about it. I'm easily swayed and quite impressionable, so shoot.  
> Anyway, Toodles!  
> V


	3. Let's Start an Anonymous Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let's start an anonymous club  
> I'll make name tags with question marks  
> Come 'round to mine  
> We'll swap clothes and drink wine all night"  
> Anonymous Club // Courtney Barnett

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh im so excited this is like my favorite chapter that I've written so far. I've been trying to develop some of the other characters, so what better way than to do POV from someone other than Bev. Enjoy!

Bev dropped her bike down on Richie’s lawn, next to Ben and Mikes’. Bill’s dump of a pick-up truck was parked in the driveway, and luckily neither of Richie’s parents’ cars were.

Like always, the screen door creaked open when Bev flung it, shocked it hadn’t fallen off the hinges yet. The smell of cigarettes lingered in the air of the kitchen, and dirty dishes were piled in the sink. Bev passed through before opening the door to the basement and hearing raucous laughter float up. 

“I’m here bitches!” Bev called out as she galloped down the stairs to see all the boys piled onto the stained couch in the basement, watching something on Richie’s fossil of a laptop. Bev was there the day that she, Richie, and Bill carried the couch from a random sidewalk all the way to Richie’s house and down to the basement. The rest of the group had no idea how they did it, and honestly, the three of them didn’t either. 

“Eddie?” Bev stopped in her tracks as she saw the smaller boy pressed up against Richie’s side. 

“Hey Bev” Richie says, “Oh yeah, I invited Eddie, if that’s cool.”

“It’s fine.” Bev replied after a minute. It was a little jarring to see Eddie out of the context of the church basement. He looked a lot more human when he didn’t have florescent lights beating down on him, and he wasn’t talking about his mom. 

“So Bill” Richie yawned, “Now that our resident hottie is here, can we get started.” 

“Can it Rich.” Bev cut in

“S-Sure Richie.” Bill stammered as he pulled a bong and a baggie of weed out of his backpack. Richie’s eyes lit up at the sight, and made grabby hands at it, but Bill held it out of his reach as he started packing it. 

“I d-drove Stan here and he chipped in for g-gas money, so he gets the first r-ri-ip.” Bill said.

“Thank you Bi-” Stan started

“After me of course.” Bill grinned maniacally as he lit it.

“Asshole.” Stan muttered as he shoved Bill with his foot, who protested with a cry that was muffled into the glass neck of the bong. 

It was passed around the group up to Richie, who coughed every time and glared whenever someone laughed. He took a few extra hits with the excuse of being the gracious host of their little rendez-vous. This theory was shot down by Stan, citing that when he got there, he asked Richie to get him something to eat. Richie responded that unless Richie’s ass was his preferred snack, he could get the food his-damn-self. 

When Eddie was next, Richie hesitated in giving him the bong. 

“If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to you know.” Richie said quietly, “Nobody here is going to judge you.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow in confusion, before he glared briefly at Richie and snatched the bong and lighter out of his hand. He proceeded to take the biggest hit of the afternoon, holding it in for an exceptional amount of time, then blowing the smoke directly in Richie’s face. 

Bill and a few others cheered as Richie coughed and waved the smoke away. 

“Where the fuck did you pick up that little trick.” Richie grouched, his cheeks burning.

“Just because my mom’s overbearing doesn’t mean I live under a rock. I’m used to a little pot. Or a lot of it.” 

“Point taken.” Richie grunted, clearly smothering an impressed smile. 

Eventually the bong was finished and the stoned teens had spread themselves along the couch and floor, Richie’s laptop open and playing some old sitcom. 

In the corner, Eddie was packing the bong again, somehow not feeling the effect despite smoking the most. Richie was sitting next to him as Eddie explained to Richie what he was doing. Richie nodded along, but his glazed eyes were staring at the curl falling on Eddie’s forehead. 

After the second bong was passed between Eddie and Richie (Richie denies it, but he really only took about two hits off the second round), the whole group was finally sufficiently fucked. 

“Hey” Mike whispered, “We should make pasta.”

Bill sat up slowly before looking Mike directly in the eye. “Mike Hanlon, you are the single most handsome, smartest man we have ever had the good fortune of inducing into the group.” 

“I could go for some pasta.” Eddie squeaked out from his place nearly on top of Richie, who had an arm around the smaller boy. Richie, despite seeming asleep, nodded. 

Bev’s hunger cut through her muddled mind, and she was the first to actually get up and start for the stairs. It wasn’t until she had the water on that she realized that nobody had followed her upstairs. 

“Hey shitheads!” She yelled down the stairs to the boys, “Water’s on but I’m not doing everything for you.” 

It was then that she saw someone walking down the street in a red and white diner uniform, barefoot, smoking, and carrying their shoes. It only took another minute for her to recognize Camila. She would never be able to tell you what it was (probably the weed) that convinced her it was a good idea to go outside and say hi. 

“Hey” She called out, jogging to catch up, “Hey Camila! Wait up!”

Camila turned around and squinted. “Bev? What the hell?”

“What are you doing here?” 

“Im.. walking home? The real question is what are you doing _chica_.”

“Do you live around here?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t answer my question.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I’m hanging out at Richie’s place with some friends.”

“He lives around here?”

“Yeah” Bev says, pointing at his house, “right there. Do you wanna, like, come over? We’re making pasta.”

Camila gave Bev a look of utter confusion, and Bev immediately sobered up enough for her brain to realize how goddamn creepy it was that she just ran out to invite this near-stranger to come eat pasta in the mid-afternoon with her and her stoned friends. Blood rushed to her face and her features began to fall. 

Luckily, at this moment, Camila smiled and nodded. “Sounds like a plan Red, lead the way.”

Bev sighed out of relief and turned, starting for Richie’s. 

When she enters, all the boys are in the kitchen, and there’s italian music blasting from Richie’s computer. Camile burst into laughter when Richie spun around, shocked, donning a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron and clearly thinking the two of them were his parents. He was stirring a big pot, and there were empty boxes of at least three totally different kinds of pasta on the counter. There were even two empty ramen bags. 

“Camila? The hell you doin’ here?” Richie question. 

“This little stalker saw me on the street and stopped me, asking if I want to come eat pasta with you all. Considering it smells like Bob Marley’s funeral in here, the interaction is starting to make more sense.” 

“What are you wearing? It’s strange to see you without combat boots and a bomber jacket.” Richie grinned sarcastically 

“Shut up.” Camila barked out playfully, “It’s a uniform _tarado_. I just got off my shift.” 

“Whatever you say. You look like an elf." She flipped him off

“Camila?” Eddie asked as he closed the basement door behind him, climbing up onto the counter, “What’s with this little reunion?” 

“Reunion of what?” Ben asked 

“Nothing.” all four replied in synch. 

“Doesn’t matter why I’m here.” Camila said as she dropped her shoes and popped up on the counter next to Eddie, “Just matters that I get pasta.”

The next ten minutes were spent constructing elaborate lies to the boys as to how the group knew Eddie and Camila, and by the end of the introductions, the past was done. 

Richie served everyone bowls, and Bev laughed at the fact that there was bowtie pastas, alphabet pasta, ramen noodles, spaghetti, and cheese-less mac mixed in the bowl, and she was pretty sure none of them were cooked correctly. 

The group piled back on the couch in the basement, but now Camila was pressed to Bev’s side. Bev tried to pay attention to Superbad, which was playing on Richies computer, but she kept getting distracted by the smell of Camila’s hair, which was a strange mix of fried food and cheap perfume. It would normally bother Bev, but right now she found it captivating. 

When the film was over, Ben had to be shaken awake, and they decided it was probably time that their little group disbanded. Bill and Stan got in Bill’s truck and drove away. Eddie, Ben, and Mike were all going the same direction so they left, and Richie went inside to start cleaning up. This left Bev and Camila standing on the lawn. 

“Do you want a lift home? You’re definitely small enough to fit on my handlebars.”

Camila smiled that damn sly smile and nodded. “Sounds like a plan chica.” 

It took a minute of careful planning and shifting, but eventually Bev was riding down the road with Camila on the handlebars, laughing and pointing out directions to her house. 

Even with the added imbalance of Camila in the front, and long brown locks of hair whipping in her face, this was easily the best bike ride Bev had ever had. The wind made tears prick in Bev’s eyes, and she was still a little fuzzy from the pot, but it was worth it to hear Camila’s yelp and the following giggle whenever Bev swerved a little. 

All too soon, Camila was pointing out her brother’s house and hopping off the bike. She spun around, and the pink sunset was making her brown eyes glow. Bev swore she was about to melt into the ground. 

“Wait one second _chica._ ” Camila said, before digging around in her apron pocket, and producing a pen. She grasped Bevs wrist and brought it close to her face, and wrote down her phone number, before prompting her to do the same. 

“Text me. We oughta hang out sometimes outside of continuously running into each other.”

Bev nodded dumbly, her brain malfunctioning, and probably only, like, half of it was the pot. 

“Alright chica. I’ll see you next week.” 

“Yeah… I’ll see ya.” 

Camila walked to the door, turning and smiling at Bev one last time before disappearing into the house. 

On the ride home, Bev could’ve sworn she smelled Camila’s spicy perfume in the wind, despite it being logistically impossible. She chalked it up to whatever pot was still floating around in her system. 

She knew it wasn’t, but you can’t blame a girl for trying. 

* * *

Richie and Bev walked into the church basement, and for once they were actually on time. 

“It’s weird seeing you here when you aren’t interrupting the meeting.” Eddie whispered to Richie when they sat down. Richie grinned and punched his shoulder. 

The meeting began as normal, and everyone was there except for Tony. This question was answered when the doors swung open ten minutes into the session, and he walked surprisingly calmly to his seat, sitting down stiffly, with his hood still covering his head. 

“Tony?” Mr.K asked after a minute of total silence, “No hoods please.”

Tony silently took the hood off, and the room collectively winced at his face, seeing a black eye, split lip, jaw bruises, and bruises around his neck. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Kurt asked bluntly.

“None of your fucking business asshole.” Tony grunted. Kurt raised an eyebrow, but nodded and leaned back. Anna was the only other one to react, putting a delicate hand on his shoulder, her eyebrows drawing together when he flinched away. 

“Tony, what did happen?” Mr. K asked worriedly. _This could be the first time he’s actually shown concern for one of us… err.. them_ Bev thought to herself.

“My Ma finally found the balls to call the cops on my Dad after he knocked her around. Cop that hauled him in was a buddy of his, so he processed the paperwork differently. After a couple nights down at the station, he got loaded and came back home. Dragged my ass out of bed and ‘taught me a lesson’ for convincing my Ma to call the police.” Tony recited robotically, “Not like I fuckin’ did it.” 

“Well, I suppose this is a harsh reminder that while some of us are lucky enough to be out of the abusive home, some are still dealing with it-”

“Where is he now?” Ollie cut in, looking up from his lap for the first time that afternoon. 

“Huh? Oh he’s still at the house, He just hasn’t done anything since that night ‘cuz he thinks someone at school’s gonna notice.” 

“And they haven’t noticed this?”

“I’ve been hauled into the office for fighting more times than you can count. Can’t be surprised that they think this is just someone getting even.” 

“It… isn’t, though.” Ollie whispered.

“It isn’t!?” Tony started to get angry “No fuckin’ shit it isn’t! I don’t need you to tell me that asshole!”

“Tony calm down.” Mr. K tells him coolly. 

“No screw you!” Tony shouts as he stands up, “I don’t give a fuck about your ‘coping mechanisms’ and all your other bullshit, because you know what!?! It’s easy to have to cope when you don’t have to fucking live with ‘em, but none of that shit helps when your father is sitting on top of you and fuckin’ throttling you! So you all can take your support bullshit and shove it! None of that shit’s going to fuckin’ help me!!”

Tony breathed heavily for a second, before turning, kicking his chair, and stomping out of the room. The room was silent.

“May I-.. May I go talk to him?” Anna asked quietly.

Mr. K took a deep breath and nodded. 

* * *

“Tony? You out here?” Anna asked as she walked down the silent hallway. 

She finally found him sitting against the hall in a dark hall that split off the main one. 

“Hey.” She said as she slid down the wall next to him.

“Hey banana.” He whispered, using his childhood nickname for her, which had been pared down from Anna Banana. 

She was silent for a minute before addressing the elephant in the hallway. “What the hell was that Tony. Ollie barely even said anything.” 

“I know. I wasn’t even mad at him. I was just mad. Like always.”

“I’d say you need to work on that, but you know that already.”

“Yeah- I… I’m just sick and tired of being the bad guy Anna. It’s like no matter how badly I try to control it, there’s just this fuckin’ fire under my skin. I can’t control it. I just lose my shit, everytime.” 

“It’s a little too easy to psychoanalyze that one Tony. We can cut Mr. K out entirely and I could just tell you directly that it’s because of your Dad.” 

Tony smiled at her, despite his wet eyes, which she was gracious enough to not mention. 

“It’s like when I was little, I would dream about being a fuckin’ superhero. Someone like the Hulk, who couldn’t control themselves, but use the power for good. As life went on I realized maybe I’m not that. Maybe I’m just a villain. Hulk didn’t beat the shit out of random kids in his grade for lookin’ at him wrong.” 

“Hulk also isn’t a real person Tony. Nobody would expect your Dad to beat the fuck out of you, then you be better for it” She said as she rubbed his upperarm. “Besides, you're not a villain. You were the one who convinced me to tell my mom about my Uncle.”

“That didn’t require me to actually do anything Anna. It was just obvious.”

“You were eight Tony. Most kids don’t realize the right thing to do at only eight years old. You know what you’re doing is wrong, and that’s the first step to stopping.”

“You’re so fuckin’ smart Anna. How the hell do you always know the right thing to say.”

“Because I know you Tony. Just because we drifted apart doesn’t mean I wasn’t the one who climbed the tree into your bedroom window with bags of ice way-back-when for your black eyes because you were too scared to leave you room”

“I’m sorry I don’t talk to you at school Banana. You don’t deserve a friend who won’t even talk to you.” 

Anna smiled sweetly. “Incase you haven’t noticed Tony, I’m still sitting here with you. I still care about you, and likely always will, regardless of the fact that you want to keep up the whole bad boy asshole facade at school.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Tony said wetly, staring intently at the opposite wall

“We all deserve to have nice things in our lives. Even the Devil deserves compassion, and you’re a lot better than Satan.” Anna grinned

Tony went to drop his head onto Anna’s shoulder, biting back a gasp as a hand went to his ribs. 

“Tony? You okay?’ She asked

“Yeah” He croaked, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tony, let me see your ribs.” She said, suddenly serious and pulling away from the wall to kneel in front of him.”

“Seriously Anna, it’s nothing.”

She just glared at him, and he wondered how someone who stood at a total of 5’3” could look so intimidating. Maybe it was just because she was the only person he had never lied to. He lifted his hoodie, and she breathed in sharply when she saw the bruises marring his skin. 

“We should bring you to a doctor. Those could be broken.”

“Oh please, there’s a few brui-”

He yelped when Anna lightly pressed on the bruises, and then looked wetly at the ceiling and breathed deeply. She raised an eyebrow and he looked at her, silently giving into her request. 

She stood and helped him up with no resistance. They walked back to the room in silence, his trembling hand finding hers in the space between them. She gave it a reassuring squeeze and she opened the door to the room. Everyone looked at them, noting Anna’s hard expression and Tony’s red-rimmed eyes

“Does anyone have a car? I’m taking him to the Hospital”

“Is everything okay?” Mr. K asked “I can call an ambulance. Does he need immediate attention?” 

“No!” Tony cut in “I mean, I don’t think I even need a hospi-”

“No ambulance.” Anna deadpanned “I’ve got it covered, and I can have my mom pick us up after the appointment, we just need a ride there.” 

“I’ve got a car.” Ollie said quietly.

“He’s my ride home, so if y’all are goin’, I’m goin’ with you.” Kurt sighed exasperatedly. 

Both of them stood, and put their coats on. 

“Well I suppose if we’re losing four of you, and we only had 20 minutes left anyway, we can just cut our meeting early.” Mr. K sighed. 

* * *

Richie, Eddie, Bev, and Camila all sat on the garden wall of the Church. Eddie and Camila waited to get picked up and Bev and Richie were walking, but they waited to see the others off anyways. 

Bev handed Richie a cigarette, before offering them to Camila and Eddie. Camila took one and lit it, but Eddie denied, saying his mom would smell it on him when he got in the car. 

“What does your Mom think you’re doing here anyways? I doubt she knows what it really is.” Bev asked.

“I told my mom it’s weekly seminars on hygiene and cleanliness. After that I had to tell her it was for teens only because she was fully intent on also attending.” Eddie said as he rolled his eyes. The rest of them laughed.

“I feel you. I told my aunt it’s a weekly group study session for math or some shit. She’s never gotten to know my school friends, so it was easy.” Bev said as she lit hers. 

“My parents don’t even know where I am.” Richie smiled, but there was a sad twinge to it. 

There was a lull, and Bev looked at Camila. “I assume your brother knows where you are?” 

“Hell no.” She said, gazing down the street, “He just asks when to pick me up, and where.” 

“Really? He doesn’t mind?” Eddie asked 

“Nah. He and I aren’t very close.”

“Fair enough.” 

The awkward silence that followed was harsh. It was only broken by Eddie stealing the cigarette out of Richie’s mouth, who protested, but was smacked on the shoulder. 

“I have mouthwash in my bag. I’ll just tell my mom they had to, like, show us what smoke smells like so we’ll avoid it or some shit.” 

Richie rolled his eyes, amused, and gestured to Bev for another cigarette. 

“I really gotta make friends that don’t smoke" She grinned "You shitheads are bleedin’ me dry.”

Eddie’s Mom sped up in her shtibox of a car, and all four teens hid their cigarettes behind their backs, Richie inconspicuously handing him a stick of gum. 

“See ya later.” Eddie waved as he hopped off the wall. They all waved back. 

It was silent after that, until Camila went to take a drag of her cigarette, and Bev saw the bruising on her wrist. 

“What’s that from?” Bev asked, briefly touching her wrist, and not seeing the wince that followed. 

“Oh, nothing, I just… hit it on a door.” 

“Oh” Bev said skeptically “Okay then.” 

“There he is.” Camila murmured as she hopped off the wall. A car with a shitty paint job and a clunking noise pulled into the lot. The man inside was smoking, and didn’t look at the kids as he waited, eyes trained on the horizon. 

“I’ll see you guys around.” Camila said quietly, all her energy seeming to have been sapped all of a sudden

“See ya Cam.” Richie called out.

“See you.`” said Bev. 

Camila looked at her one more time while opening the car door, before getting in and riding off into the setting sun. A little less romantic than Bev had been expecting. 

Bev and Richie got off the wall, poking fun and shooting the shit at eachother until they passed Bevs apartment building and she split off, hugging him goodnight. 

That night, Bev dreamt of the bruise on Camila’s wrist, and days where she saw matching bruises on her own wrist. When she snapped awake at 4 am, she laid in the bed, watching the digits on the alarm clock dance and bleed together. 

Everytime the sound of a plastic divider invaded her memory, she forced it out by thinking of Camila’s laugh when she was on Bev’s handlebars, and the spicy smell of her hair as it tickled both her and Bev’s necks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is just me chanting "stoner Eddie stoner Eddie stoner Eddie" in the corner for like 3k words. I just love ow-key badass Eddie head cannons and this whole pic is self-indulgent so yee (I do hope you like it tho)
> 
> I'm a little iffy about characterizing the other ppl in the group too much or doing POV's from them bc I want the pic to be Bev-centric without too much focus elsewhere. 
> 
> As always, if you have suggestions or critiques, plz leave in the comments and I'll consider it. 
> 
> Toodles!
> 
> Edit: umm y'all fake as fuck for not having told me how goddam ridiculous the spacing was. I just looked at it on my phone and I have no clue how y'all had been reading that shit lol.


	4. I dream about being with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Past the billboards and the magazines  
> I dream about being with you  
> We can't hear a word they say  
> Let's pretend we own the world today"  
> For Tammy Rae // Bikini Kill

The first text came when Bev was sitting in History class, with Richie and Bill. She was on the verge of falling asleep on top of her worksheet, when her phone dinged in her pocket. She knew Erin was on shift, and literally all of her friends were in the same building as her, so she had no idea who it could be.

_ Happy Thursday Chica. Free slushies at 7-11 today, wanna come with me when i get off shift? _

Bev couldn’t stop the smile, spreading across her face. Bill and Richie looked at each other, confused as to what could be causing the sudden joy (presuming it wasn’t the proxy wars waged during the cold war). 

“So Marsh, who’s got you on the hook?” Bill whispered

“Nobod-” Bev started 

“Don’t suppose it could be Camila, Marsh?” Richie cut in 

“Camila, the girl from Richie’s house?”

“It’s not her-”

“She’s a cute little piece, I tell ya. Wouldn’t mind taking a bite of her taco-”

“Don’t b-be gross R-Richie.”

“Hold on” Bev asked “Did you just insinuate that you’re going to bite her vagina?”

“Well… it worked… for the analogy.” 

“Debatable.” Bill muttered 

“Well if you’re going around mouthing genitals, namely those belonging to a neurotic little brunette with a fanny pack, I’d suggest keeping teeth out of the equation.” 

“Hey Marsh, I’m a sex master, and I don’t need your instruction.”

“Hey Rich.” Bill interrupted, “R-Remember at Joey’s party, when w-we played spin the bottle, and y-you w-went in for your k-kiss with Michelle t-tongue first? Because s-sure I do.”

“Well… I was young back then.”

“I-it was a y-year ago.”

“Irrelevant.” Richie smacked his hands down on the table, accidentally drawing the braindead attention of the kids around them. “The point of this conversation is that Bev has a date! She’s getting into Camila’s chili-scented panties! Her hisp-panties!”

Bill gave him a look

“We’re just lucky,” Bev murmured, “That he saves the race jokes for when she isn’t around.”

“I’ll have to write a bunch to share when I speak at your wedding.”

“Richie I’m making sure you aren’t within 500 feet of my wedding.”

“Camila will invite me.”

“I’d convince her otherwi- Wait a minute! No! We aren’t getting married! We aren’t even going on a date. This is just slushies Richie. Not a big deal.”

Bev, if Eddie asked me to slushies, I’d shit a brick.” 

“If Eddie asked you to hand him a pencil, you’d shit a brick. Not a good frame of reference.”

Bill made a whipping sound, and Richie flipped him the bird

“Look B-Bev, as muh-much as I hate t-to agree with the d-d-dumbass, this d-does sounds l-like a date.” 

"No Bill, it probably isn't. She might just need a ride to 7-11 or something. I don’t want to like… get my hopes up.”

“Awwww” Bill and Richie cooed in unison. Now it was Bev’s turn to flick them both the bird.”

“Bev, listen to the love guru,” Richie said as he put his arm around her shoulder (and she shrugged it off), “Camila doesn’t want slushies. She could get slushies on her own. She wants to hang out with you. She wants to roleplay as an interior designer.”

Bill and Bev looked at him questioningly. 

“She’s tryna figure out if the carpet matches the drapes! Badum-tsch!”

Bill groaned, and Bev smacked his shoulder

“Richie! Gross!”

“Point is, go out with her. Put out the feelers. If she keeps talking about a boyfriend that for some reason hadn’t come up before, then the safe bet is it’s not a date.  _ However _ , when she  _ doesn’t  _ do that, because is  _ totally is a date _ , then you two will go out and get married and have adorable ginger mexican babies!”

“I mean, what if she finds out I’m kinda boring? What is she’s boring? What if we don’t go well together? What if-”

“B-Bev” Bill said as he put his hand over hers, “It’s just a f-first date. Y-you’ll never know a-any of that if y-you don’t g-go.”

“That’s the spirit Billy Boy! Welcome to team get-the-ginger-laid!”

“That’s a t-team?” 

“We’ll wear our t-shirts at the wedding.”

“T-shirts? Richie there’s t-shirts?”

“Well not yet, but Eddie volunteered to help me with the tie-dye, and I-”

He was cut off by Bev and Bill making simultaneous whipping sounds, then dissolving into laughter. 

“Okay screw you both. Anyway Bev, let’s discuss the topics you shall cover on this date… ”

* * *

Bev eventually responded to Camila’s text, and the two were gonna meet at Camila’s work after her shift was over, considering it was about halfway between Erin’s apartment and the 7-11.

Bev was swinging the doors to the diner open, and was shocked to see it was actually pretty busy. She could’ve sworn there were no more than 10 people there when she and Erin went at dinnertime, so she was confused as to why 5pm on a Thursday seemed to be bustling with customers. 

“Hey there  _ chica”  _ Someone whispered in her ear “You’re in my way.”

Bev jumped a little but she knew it was Camila. She smelled the spicy cheap perfume before she heard her husky voice in her ear. 

“Hey Camila.”

“Listen, I have to be here for, like, twenty more minutes, before my asshole of a boss lets me leave” She said, muttering “ _ estúpido hijo de puta.”  _ afterwards.

“Yeah, no problem, I’ll wait outside.”

“Sure, thanks for waiting  _ monada.” _

Bev sat on the stoop outside the diner, lighting up a cigarette while she waited. Eventually, bored of listening to the bird cawing as they crapped on the roofs of the cars of patrons, she flopped down on the sidewalk, hands in her jacket pockets, and eyes closed against the afternoon sun. 

She was almost asleep when the sunlight beating down on her face was blotted out. She opened her eyes to see Camila standing above her, coat in her hand. 

“You know, I had multiple customers complain about the drunk girl passed out on the sidewalk.”

“My one regret, Camila, is that I’m stone-cold sober.”

“Well…” Camila smirked as she pulled a joint out of her pocket, “Not if I have something to say about it.” 

Bev grinned, and tossed her lighter up to Camila, who lit the joint, before hoisting Bev off the curb, and the two set off down the street, passing the joint between them until they were good and stoned.

By the time they entered the 7-11, they were still laughing about the cat they had seen on the other side of the road. For the record, it wasn’t that funny. 

“Camila...” The cashier said slowly as he leaned over the counter, “Long time no see…”

“Oh. Hey Drew.” Camila said, suddenly on edge. 

“What can I do for you ladies?” He drawled, looking them both up and down. Bev pulled the skirt of her dress a little further down, and Camila crossed her arms over her chest. 

“We’re here for the free slushies” Camila said

“Well have at them. Let me know if there’s anything else I can, ya know, do for ya.” he said with a wink. Camila smiled briefly at him, then pushed Bev towards the slushie machine. Bev got cherry, and Camila mixed lemonade with blue raspberry. Bev pulled a face after seeing that, but Camila shrugged it off. “Don’t knock it ‘til ya try it  _ chica. _ ”

They left the store, and went to the playground opposite the 7-11. The thing was basically falling down but Bev and Camila couldn’t have cared less, sitting down on the rusted out swings. 

“So…” Bev started “You know him?” 

“Friend of my fuckin’ brother.”

“He seems… nice.”

“He’s a creep Bev, no reason to beat around the bush. He always gives me fuckin’ looks when he and Mateo hang out. I swear, I’ve never met someone who has the ability to undress a girl with his eyes like Drew can. It’s, like, mad fuckin’ scary.”

“Yeah I can see that. Anyways, how was work.”

“It was long and packed with senile old fucks. Every Thursday we have an old person special for 5-6 pm and the place fills up with people over sixty. Once and a while its nice old ladies, but in this town, you’re more likely to get old men who think it’s still acceptable to yell out light racial slurs to get the attention of your mexican waitress.” 

Bev grimaced briefly, but the two of them giggled after a minute, still minutely stoned.

Eventually they calmed down, and settled into the sound of the wind and cars whizzing by. Bev inconspicuously looked over at Camila. The pinks and oranges in the sky were reflecting in her eyes, turning them a light golden-brown. Her long hair billowed behind them, and she poked the remaining slushie at the bottom of her cup. 

“So, where did you move from? Like where did you live before you, ya know…” Bev asked, “Sorry if you don’t want to talk about it or-”

“It’s fine. I lived in Texas with my Mom and Dad. The foster homes I was in were all in Texas too.”

“Your Mom’s still around?”

“Well she was never really around. Junkie,  _ puta de mierda. _ ” 

“Sorry about that. That really sucks.”

“Yeah, but it’s in the past now.”

“I mean that shit follows yo-”

“How about you Red?” Camila cut in, an edge in her voice. “You know all about me.”

“Well my mom died when I was a toddler. It was just me and my dad for a while, then he died when I was eleven, so my aunt took me in.”

Bev automatically felt guilty lying to Camila, but she didn’t want to make it seem like she was trying to pretend she went through something as bad as Camila did. And she had to keep her story straight with what she had told everyone else. 

_ You did go through it though  _ A voice inside of her whispered  _ Fucking victim, that’s all you are Marsh. Too weak to fight him off, and too pathetic to muscle up and get over it. _

Camila huffed; “Look at us. Life sure didn’t deal us the luckiest hands, huh?”

“Too bad neither of us knows how to count cards.” Bev smiled 

“Ay, speak for yourself Red. There’s a reason I always clean up when Mateo brings me to his friend’s poker nights. The guys there clearly ask him to bring me so they can eye-fuck me the whole time, so they have yet to notice why i’m always emptying their pockets.” 

Bev cracked up laughing. “Who the hell taught you to hustle poker?”

“My father. Same person who taught me to hustle pool” 

Bev giggled more, and Camila smiled ruefully. 

“I take it from the accent that you didn’t live in Maine your whole life?” Camila said 

“Arizona.” Bev answered, and Camila nodded slowly.

“Do you miss it?”

“Do you miss Texas?”

“I asked first  _ chica.  _ Rules of conversation.”

“I’m pretty sure those don’t exist. Anyways yeah, I guess. I’m definitely more accustomed to the desert than here. I’m always cold.”

“I’m from Texas. Trust me, I feel you.” Camila smirked

“Yeah. I’m not sure how to describe what I miss, but it’s like, Here everyone is so close and in each others business. I miss the desert because it was like a constant sense of freedom. Everyone’s close, but at the same time, everyone's alone. You would think it’s lonely, but it’s nice.” 

“I get that, I guess. For me, it was kind of the opposite. Our whole extended family lived in the same neighborhood. All my aunts and uncles and shit were always at my house or whatever. I’m not gonna lie and say they were all good people, but it was nice, ya know?  _ Ellos son mi familia.”  _

“Yeah. I didn’t really know much of my family. I didn’t even know my Aunt Erin existed ‘till my dad was arres-” She coughed “Til he died”

Camila nodded, and the two sat in silence, swaying on the swings.

“Hey” Bev grinned “I bet I can jump off the swing higher than you.”

“Oh Hell no! I was the swing champion in elementary school Red, no fuckin’ way you beat me!”

They put their slushie cups in the trash, and proceeded to waste the next twenty minutes trying to beat eachother in dumb competitions around the playground. Who can swing the higher, who can climb the monkey bars faster, who can spin more on the tire swing, etc. 

By the time they were done, Camila was crowned playground princess supreme, and Bev grabbed a couple of vines from the ivy growing next to the wood chips, tying it and placing it on Camila’s head, who curtsied. 

“Hey Red, walk me home? It’s getting dark and we’re better off getting out of here before the crackheads come out.”

“Welcome to Derry, Maine Camila. We’re more likely to get attacked by a bear than a crackhead.”

“All the better reason to go. We’re two against one with a crackhead. Bears don’t have testicles we can kick”

“I mean, technically-”

Camila laughed and grabbed Bev’s hand, and tugged her up from her place on the ground. 

“Just walk me home.”

Bev would have replied sarcastically, but she was too focused on the feeling of Camila’s hand in her own. It was cold, and a little dry, but the skin was soft. 

Camila didn’t let go of her hand, even once they were walking side-by-side on the dark street. She simply shifted to interlocking their pinkies. She was happy for the change, because hopefully from this angle, Camila couldn’t feel how clammy her hands were. 

They were silent the whole walk, Bev stealing glances at Camila. By the time they got back, it was officially night. 

“Sweet. No lights. Mateo isn’t home. You wanna come in?”

“Uh yeah, sure.” 

They entered the house, Bev noticing the general disarray, but not really minding. She’d spent more than enough time at Richie’s place to not mind a mess. 

Camila’s room was at the end of a short hall, and upon entering, Bev could see the difference between her room and the rest of the house. Camila’s room, despite being as shoddily furnished as the rest of the rooms, was notably cozier. She had a lamp in the corner that cast a soft yellow glow over everything else, and the room smelled like stale cigarettes and surprise surprise, her perfume. 

“I like your room.” Bev murmured quietly while she looked around. There were a couple posters and dirty laundry strewn most places, but it was clear that it was a well loved room. What really caught Bev’s attention was the collection of art hung up around what seemed to be a table repurposed as a desk. 

“Did you do all these?” Bev asked, looking over doodles of random people. She recognized a couple, like the crazy lady at the park who was always feeding pigeons (even when there was no pigeons around), but a couple were strangers. 

“Yeah. I like to draw.” Camila admitted, sounding remotely embarrassed about it. 

“They’re, like, really fuckin good. You’re really talented.” 

“Well anyone can do anything if they practice enough. Just so happens I’m not in school so I’ve got plenty of free time.” 

“Nah this isn’t practice, this is like, prodigy shit.”

“Bev, it’s pen doodles. I didn’t invent a new style of art.”

“Regardless…” 

Bev was surprised to see a couple of doodles of the kids from the church. There was Kurt, rolling his eyes (likely at something Mr.K said), Tony, slouched in his seat with his legs stretched out, and Eddie sitting on the wall, cigarette in his mouth and grinning at Richie, who was sitting next to him. 

The one she was most surprised to see was her and Richie, fist bumping, from the first meeting. He looked happy, and she looked content, if not a little embarrassed. 

“I didn’t realize you paid this much attention during the meetings. I mean, this was the first meeting.” Bev said, pointing to the one of her and Richie. 

“Well what the hell else am I supposed to do?” Camila said as she lit a cigarette and took a drag before passing it to Bev. “Actually pay attention? I deal with enough bullshit in my life without having to listen to Mr.K jack himself off about how much he knows about our lives”

“If you hate it so much, why do you go? Not that I’m complaining, but like…”

“Well I mean I like meeting people. It’s kinda comforting to know that there’s support at your fingertips, if you need it” 

Bev mulled this over for a minute. She never considered it, but she supposed that she did rely on the group for support, even if they didn’t know it. 

“Plus, if I never went, I never woulda met you, and that’s reason enough in my books  _ chica” _

Bev blushed, and smiled up at Camila, from where she was squatting to inspect the rest of the doodles taped on the wall. 

“Who is this?” Bev asked, pointing at a picture of a man and a baby on the desk.

“Oh that’s… that’s my dad. I know, I know, it’s weird for me to have a picture of him, but it’s just that-”

“Oh you don’t have to like, defend yourself. Who am I or anyone else to tell you how to cope with this shit. It’s heavy shit Camila, and you deal how you deal.”

“Damn  _ chica, _ you should run the meetings instead of Mr.K. You're a hell of a lot more understanding.”

“Well it’s easy to be understanding when you’re looking at it objectively. I never went through it, so of course I have to understand that people deal with it differently.” Bev stated awkwardly. Camila side-eyed her for a minute, but nodded slowly. 

“Hey, did you ever do, like, actual art. Like paint or anything?” 

“Kinda. I took art classes in middle school, but nothing good.” Camila laughed. 

“Well, you should.” Bev said, and the two of the collapsed onto the bed together. “Out of curiosity, not that you have to tell me, why do you have a picture of your Dad?”

“Well, it’s kinda complicated. It’s like, my brain wants to separate the man that raised me with the one who… did what he did,”

“Oh.”

“Like, one of them taught me how to make our families recipes, and the other did all that horrid shit. I guess it’s my way of coping.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” 

“Do you miss your dad?” Camila asked after a minute.

Bev’s heart stuttered, having forgot that she told Camila he was dead. “I mean, sure. He was some kinda bastard. Knocked my mom around when she was alive. That’s most of what I remember about her. That and that she was real nice to me.”

“I think that was what sent my dad over the edge. My mom wasn’t a very good person. Always going on benders, fucking other men. Leaving my dad to care for me and Mateo. I’m not surprised Mateo hightailed it out of there at 17. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting me to follow though.”

“Your dad never hit your mom at all?” 

“Kinda surprising, I know. No, he was a good man once upon a time. Then, one night, I think he snapped. Mom left for the final time that night, and after that, he started beating he shit out of Mateo for no reason. And he started the shit with me.”

“You ever see him do it?”

“Sure, plenty of times. He didn’t care who saw. He did it in front of our Aunt and Uncle one time. That’s when they stopped visiting. I said they weren’t that good of people because they never stopped him. Never tried to help us.  _ Pendejos egoístas.”  _

“None of my mom’s family ever liked my dad. Once they got married, she got more and more sucked into his vortex of manipulation and abuse. I just remember hiding in a kitchen cabinet. My mom and I were making cookies. Well, she was making them, and I was sitting on the counter and babbling. My dad came home drunk, and she grabbed me and shoved me in the cupboard below the sink. She just didn’t close the door all the way, and I saw him laying into her.”

“Jesus Christ  _ chica.  _ Didn’t realize you had so much shit in your past. We’re practically made for eachother.” Camila huffed 

_ If only she knew half of it  _ Bev thought.  _ She wouldn’t be half as nice if she knew that you’ve managed to convince yourself you actually went through something worth talking about. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re a victim. Grow the fuck up.  _

Bev shook the thoughts out of her head, choosing instead to focus on the feeling of Camila’s shoulder pressed against hers as they laid next to each other. 

The serenity was broken by the sound of a door slamming, and Camila sitting up sharply. 

“ _ Camila!”  _ Someone slurred from somewhere else in the house, “ _ ¿Dónde estás, pequeña perra?”  _

_ “Maldita sea,  _ that’s my brother” Camila said as she jumped off the bed and hauled Bev off. “You have to go  _ chica”  _ she hissed, “and now.”

“What?” Bev asked, “What the fuck is going on?”

Camila shook her head before opening the window, and shoving Bev towards it, who got the message and began climbing out.

“Will you just explain-”

“Get out of here Red. I’ll text you” Camila said, and when Bev saw the panicked look in her eyes, she got the message. 

Bev bolted, hearing the window slam behind her. She ran to the front of the house, Camila’s window no longer in view. She took a minute to catch her breath, and started the journey home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've got any questions/comments/critiques leave em in the comments and I'll read em.   
> Thanks kids   
> Viv


	5. I'm glad I met you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't care if it's not repeated  
> I want to know who you are  
> For every second we outrun the moon, dread the sun come up  
> I want to know who you are" // Romance ~ Ex:Re

Tuesday night, she hadn’t slept well at all. She snapped awake twice. Each time she awoke, shaking fingers rushed to her thighs, anxious to throw off the hands that she felt trailing up them. Each time, her hands met nothing except a cold sheen of sweat and her own goosebumps. 

The morning was a blur. She forgot to eat breakfast, preoccupied in the three cups of coffee she downed, which earned her a worried look from Erin. She almost got hit by two seperate cars on the walk to school, forgetting to look both ways. Luckily this town is filled with old farts, who would rather consider voting democratic than consider driving over 30 mph. 

Bev finally collapsed into her first period class, next to Stan, who gave her an incredulous look. 

“Christ Marsh, did you get hit by a car on your way here? Just finished a night-long bender?” 

“I wish” Bev grinned half heartedly, “Unfortunately, I just didn’t sleep well” 

“Well, there’s a reason everyone calls Mr. Jenkins’ class the nap corner. I’ll leave you to it” 

Bev nodded and put her head down on the desk, but a voice behind them caught her attention. 

“Did you hear about that family in Augusta?” said a girl a few rows behind them, “Where the dad was touching the daughters for, like eight years?” Against her own wishes, Bev’s ears perked up at this. Her heart skipped a beat and suddenly she found herself wide awake. 

“Yeah. I know someone who knows the daughter. She’s in our grade. I mean that poor girl. How do you live after something like that, you know?”   


“No kidding. Like she must feel like such a freak having everyone know. Like it’s so crazy that she’ll never be able to be a normal kid now.”

Bev tuned out of the rest of the conversation. She could only hear the blood rushing in her ears.  _ Fuck. I’m never going to be able to be normal, am I?  _ She thought to herself. Once the thought got a foothold in her brain, it was like an avalanche.

_ A whole life full of nightmares and thinking about him and not having an identity that didn’t revolve around it. She was never gonna be able to escape this.  _

Her hands began to shake, and the sound of the teacher writing with chalk on the board became the sound of ice clinking in an old whiskey tumblr, and Stan’s hand on her arm became a hand that was much larger and more calloused. She could’ve swore she smelled his cologne, but at this point it was more likely that she was imagining it. 

She flinched so hard that she nearly fell out of her seat. She stood up, and walked rapidly out of the room, not caring when the door slammed behind her. She began to speed up, till she was power walking through the hallways, with her boots slamming into the floor and her fingernails pressing just hard enough into her palms for it to be uncomfortable. Good. 

After a little bit, she looked up and realized she was near the other end of the school. She fell against the lockers and slid down them until she was curled up and could feel her breath huffing on her knees.

She only broke out of her trance when she noticed Stan sit down next to her. 

“I heard-” he started, “You know, what those girls were talking about” 

“I know”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I know we aren’t quite as close as You and Richie or Bill or someone”

“I know.”

They were silent for a minute. She loved Richie with her whole heart, but right now, she appreciated her and Stan’s mutual hatred for mindless chatter. He allowed the air to hang heavy, giving her the time to consider what she’d say next. 

“My dad-” she stammered, “He’s not… dead. Like I said he was”

“Yeah. I figured” Stan replied coolly. She laughed wetly, then sighed and put her head on his shoulder. He let his head fall on top of hers. She noted that he smelt vaguely like baby shampoo. Huh. 

“If you ever want to talk. I may not get it, but I’ll listen”

“Thanks Stan” She said, and meant it. She knew Stan would listen. He would listen calmly and give a pragmatic and thought out solution and when there was no solution, he would simply sit with you in a dirty hallway and let you ignore the silent tears running down your face.

It was a weird day. 

* * *

At the group that week, Bev knew something felt off, and she knew it was because it was awkward between her and Camila. They hadn’t talked since Bev got kicked out of the house. 

Later that night, Camila had texted her  _ sorry _ , and Bev had replied  _ No problem. What was that? Are you okay?,  _ but Camila had yet to say anything back. The lack was felt strongly, and Bev was dismayed to realize how much she had gotten used to Camila’s texts in such a short time. 

A couple of the Losers had asked her why she had seemed so down, and she had brushed it off, but Richie had pressed her when they were alone, and she had finally spilled to him. 

When she and Richie sat down, she could tell Camila was avoiding looking at her, and she couldn't pretend it wasn’t a little bit hurtful. 

“Alright guys, how’s everyone’s week going?” Mr.K asked brightly. He seemed unfazed by the silence he was met with. “Anybody want to share something that happened to them this week? Literally anything?” 

“I’ll go, I guess.” Kurt said. “I entered a short story I wrote into a national story contest that my teacher gave us flyers for and it actually placed”.

Ollie looked surprised that Kurt actually took his advice. His look of shock dissolved into a fond smile when Kurt knocked his ankle with his foot. Kurt didn’t meet his eye, but he shot the ground a soft smile of his own. 

“Kurt that’s great!” Anna beamed at him, “What was it about?” 

“Well…” Kurt started, glancing at Mr.K, “It was kind of about me. It wasn’t like, an autobiography, but it was about a kid who got kicked out for being gay, and ends up moving in with a friend and they kinda fall in love, or whatever.”

Ollie flushed, but didn’t comment. Anna smiled sweetly and Tony rolled his eyes. Richie fake gagged, and Eddie kicked his shin. Bev looked at Camila, but Camila still refused to meet her eyes. She told herself it didn’t hurt, but she knew she was lying. 

They chatted a little more about everyone’s week, but Mr.K was intent on steering the conversation towards what they were actually there for. “So this week, I was hoping to talk about relationships with abusers, and how they’re distorted after the abuse.”

“The fuck you mean ‘distorted’?” Tony scoffed, “Someone hits you, you don’t fuckin’ like ‘em that much”

“Well, it’s not necessarily that simple. When abused by someone close to you, or someone you love, feelings about the abuser can be mixed”

“I get that” Ollie added, “like, I still love my dad and stuff, even though he’s hit me a couple of times” 

“Same with my parents” Richie said, in a rare moment of seriousness, “Like despite what is happening now, they’re still the people who loved me when I was a kid. There was a time… before it all started…” he drifted off. Eddie gave him a sympathetic look, and Bev briefly squeezed his hand. Not too long ago, he wouldn’t even acknowledge what was happening in his house. She was glad to know that coming here had actually helped him. 

“It was kind of the same with my Uncle” Anna said shyly, “Like, I was too young to know what was happening, so to me he was still the guy who came for holidays and Sunday dinner. It took a lot of time for me to realize what he did was wrong. If I had never told my mother, I’m not sure if he ever would’ve stopped, or if I would’ve ever realized how wrong it was” 

Mr. K nodded, but didn’t say anything. Bev noted that while this may be his job, he still looked distinctly uncomfortable with their stories. 

Bev was shaken from her thought when she heard Camila start talking. 

“I still love my dad. I mean, hell, he’s my fuckin’ dad. He may be one sick son of a bitch, but he raised me and my brother. I’ll never be able to reconcile the man who, like, dropped me off at preschool with the man who did shit to me. It’s like something took over his body, and it wasn’t him.”

“Do you still talk to him at all?” Mr.K asked. 

“No. Cops wouldn’t let me, but I wouldn’t want to anyway. Once he started, I knew he was never gonna be the old him again. He’s alive… but the version of him that I love is gone.”

“Yeah” Eddie spoke up, “My mom’s the same. I don’t love her… not anymore at least. There was a time before she became… who she is now. I love the old her, but now she’s like a fucking monster” 

The group continued talking until break, when Richie leaned over to Bev. “Hey Bevvie, I’m not walking home today by the way. Eddie and I are going to the arcade and to get pizza” 

“Alright Rich. You’re lucky I carry mace, or else that might be a problem. Good luck with your date”

“He insists it’s not a date, but it totally is. I’ll wear him down eventually.”

“I feel as though that’s a terrible precedent to be set as far as dating goes”

“Nah. Wearing people down is my speciality! One day he’ll appreciate that I never gave up”

“Sure, Rich, whatever you say”

The rest of the meeting kinda sucked, but maybe Bev was just too busy worrying about why Camila had yet to so much as make eye contact with her. She wasn’t typically one to get obsessive. The way they left things, however, did worry her.

When the meeting finally ended, Bev was smoking while sitting on the garden wall. Richie and Eddie each bummed a cigarette off of her before making their way towards downtown. Roughly ten minutes later, she looked up to see Camila exiting the church.

“Hey Red” Camila said quietly, before walking up to her. Bev nodded hello, but didn’t say anything in return. Camila shuffled on her feet before asking if she could walk Bev home. 

Bev hopped off the wall and ground her cigarette out. She took the lead, and Camila walked by her side, but left a little bit of room between them. 

“So what? You’re not even gonna look at me? ¿ _ Que diablos _ ?”

“Hey, I’ve been trying to for the last hour. Besides, I’m not the one who went AWOL on  _ you _ ”

“That isn’t fair  _ chica _ , you didn’t text me either”

“Bullshit. Plus, I didn’t make you leave my house out of a fucking window”

“Haven’t I said I’m sorry? Are you really mad about the window thing?”

“What? No! I’m upset because it was insanely concerning, and you refused to explain what the fuck happened!” Bev started walking faster. 

“Okay!” Camila cried as she grabbed Bev’s arm and spun her towards herself. “You want to know what happened!?! When Mateo drinks, he can get a little… angry. Nothing serious, he doesn’t even leave marks, but I didn’t want you to see it.”

Bev was stunned into silence. “He’s hitting you?”

“No, no. Just, like, a little shoving and pushing. Not like legitimate abuse or anything”

“That… definitely qualifies as abuse. You should tell someone Camila. You don’t need to deal with that.”

Camila laughed bitterly. “Yeah? And where the hell am I supposed to go, huh? Rapist father? Junkie mom? Family that’s shunned me since I turned my Dad in? Mateo is the best I’ve got, and it might suck, but I’m saving up for a place. I can get the fuck out of here, and never have to see him again”

“I’m sure my Aunt wouldn’t mind if you stayed with us! I mean, I’m not sure for how long, and we don’t have an extra bedroom, but we’ll figure it out!”

Camila smirked. “Great plan Red, except for when he finds that I told someone. Or someone rats to the cops”

“...I mean-”

“Bev, it’s fine, really. It’s not as bad as I’m sure you think it is.”

“Okay… well I guess as long as you’re okay.”

Camila looked at her and smiled. “I am,  _ chica”.  _ Bev smiled back.

For the rest of the walk, Bev talked about school while Camila complained about all the shitty customers she’d had that week. At some point their fingertips brushed together, and Bev blushed. Camila, noting this reaction, interlaced their fingers and allowed their hands to swing in between them.

“Well this is me” Bev said, nodding to Erin’s apartment building. 

“Walk you to your door?”

Bev grinned. “We’re 4B. Race you up the stairs”

“Aw hell no!” Camila groaned, but Bev had already taken off. Camila laughed brightly. Bev blamed the smoking when Camila passed her on the stairs. When she finally made it up to Erin’s apartment, Camila was there with her arms crossed. 

“Well  _ chica, _ now that I’ve successfully protected you from any kidnappers or muggers, I’ll be on my way”

Bev huffed. “Please, you’re about five foot and a hundred pounds. You couldn’t protect me from anything above the fourth grade”

“I take offense to that, you know. And after all the effort I put into your security” 

“If anything, I’m protecting your midget ass”

“Goodbye  _ chica” _

“Bye Cam. Thanks for walking me home”

“My pleasure” Camila winked, and turned as she disappeared down the staircase. 

Bev entered and smelled Erin cooking something. It smelled like a good recipe that had been unfortunately botched by a shitty chef.

“Hey Bev.” Erin called out from the kitchen. She was sitting on the counter, covered in flour. 

“What… the hell happened in here”

“I’ve decided that I want to learn to bake. My cooking’s kind of a lost cause, so I thought I’d try my hand at cooking’s naughty cousin”

“Isn’t baking harder?"

“Well that’s becoming rapidly apparent. Now help me clean this crap up and I’ll make spaghetti”

“Sounds like a plan. What were you trying to make anyways?”

“Cake? I think? All I ended up doing is giving myself a fuckin’ headache”

“Stress or smoke inhalation?”

“Not sure. I opened the window anyway” 

The two of them got to work wiping down counters and scraping batter off the floor. Bev even offered to get up on the counter to get a bit off the ceiling. By the time that all the evidence of Erin’s shameful mistake had been covered up, Bev heard her stomach growl. Spaghetti was sounding better by the minute. 

Bev took over on the stove, and Erin resigned herself to making toast garlic bread and pouring soda into two cups. 

Dinner was pleasant enough, because Erin had had a pretty crappy day at work. Bev was more than happy to listen to her rant about her asshole coworkers and her creepy, pervy boss. Mentally, of course, Bev was only half listening. Half of her was thinking about what Camila had been saying. 

For as long as she could remember, Bev could read people like a second language. Oftentimes, the manner in which people said something was even more important than what they were saying. When teachers would ask ‘How’s your home life’ Bev could see, in the creased brows and eyes that refused to meet hers, that they were begging her to confess why she’d show up with bruises. Why she rarely talked in class. 

She knew they didn’t care; that they were only asking to appease their conscience, not out of concern. She knew that the minute she said ‘good’, they would sigh, and their shoulders would sag. They would feign small talk after that, but she knew that once she gave them an inkling of reassurance, their faux-concern dissipated. 

Camila was a mystery in a lot of ways, but body language is body language. When she told Bev she was okay, Bev could see the overly reassuring look in her eyes; the slight tremble in her hands and the way she leaned in, as if to augment the impactfulness of her words. Bev knew she was acting; lying; not telling the whole truth. All the same really. All in all, Bev’s concern wasn’t satiated. In fact, the effort she put into the charade was only working against her. 

That night, Bev was actually sleeping well for once, but found herself woken suddenly yet again. She stared at the ceiling trying to figure out what had woken her up. She was answered but another rapid set of knocks at the door. 

_ Who the hell?  _ She thought to herself. She heard muffled voices in the hall, assuming Erin had opened the door. She rolled over and closed her eyes, prepared to go back to sleep when she heard Erin’s voice calling her name. She was immediately set on edge, cycling through all the possibilities of who could need her in the middle of the night. 

“Erin? Who is it” Bev asked through a yawn. Her jaw almost dropped when Erin moved out of the doorway and she saw none other than Camila standing in the door frame, shivering through her bomber jacket. 

“Cam?” Bev asked quietly. 

“Sorry Red, didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep, I just wasn’t totally sure where else to go.” 

Upon closer inspection, Bev noticed a shadow of a bruise high on Camila’s cheek, and darkening around her eye. More worryingly, it seemed as though she wasn’t wearing a shirt beneath the coat. 

“What the hell happened?” Bev whispered incredulously. Camila eyed Erin nervously. Erin seemed to get the hint. 

“You good to handle this on your own?” Erin asked, stepping away as Bev nodded. “Then I’ll give you girls some privacy. Come get me if you need anything. You don’t need to go to the hospital or anything, right?” She asked, turning towards Camila hurriedly. 

Camila smiled ruefully, but shook her head. “I’m alright, thanks  _ Señora _ .” Erin nodded and retreated to her bedroom. Bev dragged Camila in by the elbow, and shut the door. 

Camila looked at her, and Bev gently grabbed her chin, turning the bruising towards her. Camila shuddered as she brushed the thumb over the bruise on her cheek.

“What’s he doing to you Cam” Bev whispered. 

“This.. was the first time it was this bad” Camila admitted. “He’s never really gotten this violent before” 

“Is this… all he did?” Bev asked, praying Camila wouldn't confirm the suspicion that had been growing at the bottom of her stomach like a thousand pound rock. 

Camila gritted her teeth, and looked at the ceiling. “He tried to… do something else. But I stopped him before he got to far”

Bev’s eyebrows drew together, and goosebumps broke out involuntarily. 

“Was this the first time he tried that sort of thing?” She asked hesitantly, unbearably relieved when Camila nodded. 

“Yeah that’s why I came here. I didn’t really have anywhere else, and I couldn’t bring myself to stay there if he was gonna- Anyways I’m really sorry for showing up like I wouldn’t normally, it’s jus-” 

“Hey, Cam” Bev interrupted, “I’m not mad. I’m glad you came. I want you to be safe more so than anything else, okay?”

Camila nodded. It was strange seeing her like this. Bev was used to the five foot firecracker that would be one step ahead of you at all times. Now she just looked like an exhausted teen girl, freezing in a jacket that didn’t fit her. 

“Do you want to shower, or just go to bed?” Bev asked quietly.

“I kinda just want to sleep  _ Chica, _ ” Camila answered. 

“Yeah I-” Bev swallowed, “I get it. Let me grab you some Pyjamas” 

Camila left her hand in Bevs as the two made their way to Bev’s bedroom. Camila looked around curiously. 

“Well you never fail to disappoint, Red” Camila smirked, “I have yet to meet a white girl who doesn’t have polaroids taped to her walls”. Bev followed her finger to the collection of instant photos of her and the other Losers. 

Normally, she would’ve given a witty retort, but the sarcastic tone of Camila’s jab had soothed something deep inside of Bev. She wasn’t able to respond in any way other than a soft look shot towards Camila, who gave her a nervous half smile in return. 

“Here” Bev said, handing Camila a t-shirt and a pair or old running shorts, “They might be big on your tiny-ass body, but they should work”

“Watch it,  _ Chica,  _ bathroom’s this way?” 

Bev nodded, yawning. While Camila was changing, Bev grabbed a spare pillow out of the closet, and dropped back on the bed. A gentle knock on the doorframe informed her of Camila’s return. 

Logically, Bev knew that the clothing that Camila was wearing was a billion years old. She had worn each item more times than she could count, and they had never meant much to her. 

This being said, her mouth went completely dry at the sight of Camila, backlit in the doorway, with Bev’s t-shirt slipping off of her shoulder. Bev was certain there was no way one person could look so fucking beautiful in ratty old running shorts. 

“So, should I take the couch?” Camila murmured. 

“I mean, I was figuring we’d just split my bed” Bev said, “unless you’re uncomfortable with that or any-”

Camila giggled, the sound of which startled a surprised grin out of Bev. 

“That’s fine, Red” 

Bev got in bed, holding the blankets open for Camila, who hesitantly climbed in next to her. They laid silently in the dark for a minute, before Bev felt Camila’s hand moving under the sheets. Meeting her halfway, Bev interlaced their finger, praying Camila couldn’t feel her clammy palms.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Red” 

“Of course Cam”

“Seriously. There’s not a lot of people who would do that for me”

Bev turned on her side and looked Camila in the eye the best she could with barely any light in the room. 

“I’d probably do a lot of stupid shit for you Camila. I care about you”

“Jeez Red” Camila said, suspiciously wetly, “No need to get all mushy on me”

“Well, I understand how it is to feel like you’re alone in the world. Before I had my friends, I thought I’d just about die of loneliness. I’m not getting mushy, I just need you to know that even when I’m pissed off, I care about you a whole lot. More than you can piss me off at least” 

Camila looked away at the ceiling for a good minute, but Bev saw tears glinting her eyes. 

“I don’t know  _ Chica, _ sounds pretty mushy to me” she whispered. 

Bev let that sit in the air for a second, before putting her arm around Camila and pulling her in. Camila curled into Bev’s torso, breathing shakily as Bev stroked Camila’s hair. Camila played with the fingers on Bev’s other hand. 

Finally resting her head on Beverly’s chest, Camila opened her mouth a few times, seemingly trying to figure out what to say. 

“I’m really, really goddam glad I met you Bev” She breathed. 

Bev didn’t respond, only leaning her head down to press a light kiss to the top of Camila’s head. The smell of Camila's spicy perfume was overwhelming. Bev hoped she could never get it out of her bedsheets. 

Bev lied there with her eyes shut, feeling safer than she had in a long time. When the sound of a curtain creeped into her mind, she strained her ears to hear Camila huffing small breaths against her collarbone. When she felt ghostly hands running up her thigh, she stroked Camila’s shoulder, taking stock of the small body lying next to her, reminding herself they were alone in the bed. 

Bev knows that Camila was here to get away from her brother, and it might as well have been a coincidence taht it was Bev’s door she showed up on, but Bev has trouble believing that it was a coincidence that tonight was the first time in years that she felt like she could fucking  _ breathe _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it. Im really sorry abt giving up on the middle school au if you were rlly into that one, I'm just not inspired. If any of y'all want to like adopt it leave a comment and she's yours to continue. Anyway hopefully I won't lose steam on this one, because I like it a hell of a lot. 
> 
> Toodles,  
> V


End file.
